


Bouncy

by Dassandre



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack, Drunk Q, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Inspired by GIFs, M/M, Taking Care of Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre
Summary: “You know, after all these years -- doing what we do and how we do it -- I honestly thought I had seen everything there is to see,” Alec said.“Clearly not,” James replied.





	Bouncy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts), [springbok7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/gifts).



> There is no dub-con in this story. It's understood in this established relationship that if Q comes home in this condition, he expects, nay DEMANDS, that his men take care of his needs.
> 
>  
> 
> This is for Boffin who always knows just when to share this GIF and for Ashe and Springbok who laugh riotously along with me every time he does.

“You know, after all these years -- doing what we do and _how_ we do it -- I honestly thought I had seen everything there is to see,” Alec said.

“Clearly not,” James replied.

“He’s going to hurt himself if he keeps that up.”

“I don’t think keeping it up is the problem here, do you?”  

James and Alec stood, one immediately behind the other, in the doorway of their bedroom.  The same bedroom they shared with the third in their relationship, Q.

And it was Q who was the subject of their conversation and their concern.  For it was the third Saturday of the month, and on the third Saturday of each month -- barring a true international crisis, the parameters of which had been explicitly outlined in a 52-page treatise composed by Q, sent to Mallory, and cc'd to R -- the Quartermaster of MI6 and the director’s indomitable P.A., Eve Moneypenny, painted London red for their Girls Night Out.  

GNO, as it was known within Six, was a no-holds-barred excursion to the trendiest or seediest clubs and pubs the city had to offer.  Each month had a different theme, of course, and while they were always accompanied by bodyguards -- whose roles were explicitly outlined in a _67_ -page monograph written by Eve, sent to Mallory, and cc’d to the Head of Security, Thornton Rayner -- said bodyguards were not to interfere or intervene unless failing to do so put either the Quartermaster or Ms. Moneypenny in immediate jeopardy.  Something that Eve — even if she were completely in her cups -- would never allow to happen. GNO was Q’s chance to relax and unwind -- “He’ll suffer a heart attack before his 40th if he doesn’t let loose once in awhile,” Eve insisted -- and Moneypenny saw it as _her_ job to ensure he did.  Woe befall anyone who got in the way.   

James and Alec couldn’t disagree with her.  

They, too, saw it as their duty -- often an extremely pleasurable one that left Q hoarse, screamer that he was -- to help their love relax, but conceded that making use of a variety of stress relievers had merit and had long since accepted that at the end of GNO, Q would be returned to them in the small hours in any number of possible conditions ranging from utterly soused and babbling, having drunk his way through the bar at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, to stone-cold sober but oozy and dreamy from a massage and pedicure after a private evening at The Berkeley.

This, however.  This was something new.

And neither James nor Alec was entirely certain how to proceed.  Their training and combined years of experience in the field as covert operatives in Her Majesty’s Secret Service hadn’t exactly prepared them for _this_.

“I have to give him credit, though.  He’s nailed the … what do you call this again, a JIF?”

“GIF, James. It’s a _G_ IF, soft G not hard:  Graphics Interchange Format. It’s a computer file that --”  Alec sighed. James was hopeless with these things in spite of Q’s efforts to educate him on the subject.  It was clear enough to Alec, after all. “Look it doesn’t matter. But, yeah, you’re right.” He looked at the animated image on James’ mobile that Q had sent to each of them a couple of hours ago.  “It’s quite … him.”

The GIF was one of the simplest Alec had ever seen but oddly complex in that simplicity.  It was of a stick figure. A stick figure jumping up and down. A _male_ stick figure jumping up and down, its penis bouncing in concert with every hop.

The stick figure -- for all it had no face, just a filled circle for its head -- looked at once fascinated and proud of itself as it watched its penis bounce and sway with every bob and caper.  

So did the Quartermaster.

For Q -- their soused, bladdered, pissed as a fart, off his tit, totally and utterly carparked, sozzled love -- was stood on top of their bed, stripped bare, jumping up and down on the mattress watching with complete fascination and pride as his very erect cock bounced and swayed with every bob and caper.

Q’s smile was blinding.  His drunken giggle infectious.  And when he glanced up at James and Alec in the doorway and pointed at his bouncing peen with delight and satisfaction, neither James nor Alec could prevent the grins that spread across their own faces.

“He’s still going to hurt himself if he keeps doing that,” Alec reasserted through his smile.  A groin pull was painful enough. He didn’t want to imagine the pain Q would experience if he strained his cock.  “You know how Nine suffered that penile fracture two years ago; he’s not been the same since, poor bastard.

Both Double-Os shuddered visibly at the thought. Nine was a prick, to be sure, disliked by the majority of those at Six, but _no_ man, no matter how dickish, deserved— just no.

“I suppose we should do something about it,” James said, his voice tinged with concern over a future, hypothetical fracture.

“What do you suggest?”

James considered both the situation and the resources at hand — their jumping Q, the restraints neatly coiled at each corner of the bed, the glass of ice water Alec held, the bag of pistachios he kept in the drawer of his bedside table, the vibrating plug he knew Alec kept in his — then looked over his shoulder at his partner.  “You know, I believe 27-A with the Persian Variation will solve this problem nicely.”

“Twenty- _seven_ A?  Oh, Jamesy,” Alec chuckled.  “That’s bloody brilliant mate!”

“Shall we?”  James cocked an eyebrow in query.

“After you.”  Alec gestured James forward.  

“Q,” James said, approaching the bed, hand extended toward the man who exhibited no sign of stopping his hopping.  “Share with us what you’re doing there, luv.”

“And then we’ll share what we’re going to do to _you_ ,” Alec added, his large hand caressing the line of Q’s flank to his plush arse.

Never let it be said Double-Os don’t throw themselves —at times eagerly and joyfully — into their tasks. 

Hours later, hoarse from screaming and limp from sated pleasure and alcohol, Q snuffled lightly in his sleep, curled up between his slumbering lovers.

On the bedside table sat James’ mobile, the bouncing peen GIF still active on the screen.

It was a glitch Q would attend to in the morning.

Just as soon as his hangover subsided.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. This is pure crack on my part, and writing humour doesn't always come easily to me.


End file.
